Operation Cowboy Daddy (11 page)

After cleaning up the kitchen, she went into the living room, where Joey had awakened and greeted her with a wide grin. “Hey, little man,” she said and bent down to pick him up.

With one hand she held him and with the other hand she dropped the blanket on the floor so he could roll around and play. With the baby situated she sank down on the sofa.

There was no question that she was tired. Maybe that was why her mind was going so many crazy places. She hadn’t slept well for the past two nights with the memory of that moment with Ash Moreland and his gun. That fact, combined with the adrenaline of working the fair and being around Tony, had left her exhausted.

Tony’s deep laughter rang out from Halena’s bedroom, and the pleasant sound twisted a knife into her heart. She reminded herself that even if she was a whole woman, that didn’t mean Tony would even want to belong here forever.

He’d told her he didn’t want to marry, but he’d also made it clear that he wanted her. Even if she took a chance with him, there was no reason to believe he’d stick around.

She smiled at Joey, who cooed and gurgled as he played with his fingers. Tony had also said he didn’t want to be a father, and yet over the past two weeks he’d definitely grown into the position.

He might profess that he didn’t love Joey, but his love for the child was in his every touch, in the way he gazed at the boy. He held Joey with such tenderness, and when he spoke to him, his voice held a wealth of love.

Whether he knew it or not, Tony had already embraced the role of father. And she couldn’t help believing that someday with the right woman, he might realize he desired to be a husband, too. He might possibly want to have more children and build himself a real family.

Tony and Halena returned to the living room. “He hung it on the wall across from my bed, where I can look at the naked warrior every morning and every night,” Halena said with satisfaction as she sat in the chair across from the sofa.

Mary’s breath hitched in her chest as Tony sat next to her. “Hey, little buddy.” He leaned forward and grinned at Joey, who laughed and waved his fists.

“I’ve never seen such a good baby,” Halena said.

Tony leaned back. “Mary wasn’t a good baby?”

“She was terrible,” Halena replied with an affectionate look at Mary. “She came into this world wailing like a banshee and she continued to wail for about the next three months. Her mother was beside herself, certain that she was doing something wrong, but no matter how often Mary was fed and changed and rocked, she cried. And then one day she just stopped and I don’t think she’s cried since then.”

Oh, Mary had definitely cried since then. She’d cried when she’d had her hysterectomy. She’d sobbed when she’d had her double mastectomy. She’d wept bitter tears when Rick had walked away from her. And she’d cried knowing that she and Tony would never share any more intimacy.

But she always cried alone, in her room...in the dark where nobody could see or hear her. She didn’t want anyone to know the depth of her self-loathing—she needed to appear strong for those around her. Dammit, she
was
strong, she told herself.

Tony looked at her in amusement. “So, basically your grandmother is saying that you were a real crybaby.”

Mary laughed. “Maybe it was because the leaves on the trees whispered in my ear that the day would come when my grandmother would move in with me.”

“Ha, you’re not that funny,” Halena retorted, making both Tony and Mary laugh again.

The afternoon passed pleasantly with them talking about all the people they had seen at the fair, how successful the event had been for Mary’s business and how nice Clay and Sawyer had been to show up and help out. They had all taken turns playing and interacting with Joey in between his feeding and naps.

They steered clear of any mention of kidnapping and Ash Moreland, which was fine with Mary. She didn’t want to think about the horrible man who wanted possession of sweet Joey.

Dinner was eaten and at eight thirty Mary put Joey down for the night and Halena disappeared into her bedroom. Despite Mary’s tiredness, she was too wound up to sleep so early.

“Do you want me to go into my bedroom so you can make out your bed?” she asked Tony.

“Nah, I’m not ready for sleep yet. Why don’t we just sit and relax for a while longer.” He took his gun out of the holster on his belt and placed it on the coffee table next to where he sat on the sofa.

She sat next to him and relaxed into the corner of the cushions. “You look tired,” he observed.

“I am tired,” she admitted. “It was a long weekend.”

“Now that the fair is over, what do your normal days look like?” he asked.

“We get to work for the spring fair. I start weaving baskets and making pottery and Grandmother begins to sew. We have a daily routine that’s fairly laid-back.”

“I don’t want you to change anything with me here. The last thing I want to be is a distraction.”

He couldn’t help that he was a distraction. His very presence changed the weight of the air, his energy exuded from him, and no matter where she was in the house, she felt him.

“We’ll get through this,” she replied.
I was taught to hate that part of me.
The words he’d said during the fair suddenly popped into her mind and with it came a hundred different questions.

“Of course we will,” he replied. “We have to in order to save Joey.” His dark eyes filled with a steely determination. “No matter what happens, Joey has to have a wonderful childhood and I know for certain he’ll never have that with Ash Moreland.”

She knew she shouldn’t ask, she knew she shouldn’t care, but that didn’t stop her. “You want Joey to have the childhood that you didn’t have.” She leaned toward him. “Tell me, Tony. Tell me what happened to you. Tell me what drove you to the streets when you were so young.”

For a long moment she thought she’d overstepped her place as myriad emotions swept over his face. Pain, sorrow and a soft vulnerability were quickly usurped by an expression of anger and she was suddenly sorry she’d asked. She was afraid to hear his story.

She was afraid it might break her heart.

Chapter 9

T
ony’s chest tightened as dark and painful memories filled his head. He never talked about his past with anyone. He stared at Mary and for the first time in his life he wanted to give that inner pain a voice.

“I was raised by Betty and Hank Ryan. They lived on a small ranch just outside of Oklahoma City and had three children of their own. I was told by them that my mother, a full-blooded Choctaw, gave me to them when I was nine months old.”

“Why did she give you away?”

“They told me that my father was a drunk who’d left her and she didn’t want me anymore. I don’t know why the Ryans took me in. They didn’t officially foster me, so they weren’t getting any money, and they never adopted me. I think my mother must have given them some money or something up front. I never could figure out why they took me in.”

He paused, dark emotions once again pressing against his chest. He had never wanted to share this with anyone, but for some reason Mary felt safe. Her soft gaze encouraged him to let it all out. He knew instinctively she wouldn’t judge him in any way.

“I was the dirty Indian in their home,” he continued. “I slept on the floor and ate their scraps. The only time I was allowed to clean up and dress in good clothes was when we all went to town for something or on the few days off and on when I was allowed to attend school. They worked me like a mule around the ranch, and when I wasn’t working, their kids took great pleasure in tying me to trees or throwing me in the pigpen.”

Now that the words had begun he couldn’t stop them. “I was told daily that I had no place in the world, that the Choctaw nation didn’t want me and that all white people would shun me.” He paused to take a deep breath.

“Oh, Tony.” Mary scooted closer to him and took his hand in hers. He welcomed the warmth of her hand as an icy chill had gripped his heart the moment he’d gone backward in time.

He couldn’t begin to describe a young boy’s confusion about the way he was treated. He couldn’t find the words to explain how hungry he had been to belong.

“I tried so hard,” he finally said. “I worked hard in an effort to make Hank happy. I tried to do whatever he wanted me to do. I picked flowers and made little things to give to Betty in hopes that she would give me a hug or tell me she loved me.”

A bitter laugh escaped him and Mary squeezed his hand tighter. He stared at the wall over her shoulder. “There were no hugs for the Indian boy, no kind words at the end of a long workday. There was nothing but ridicule and scorn.” Lost...he was lost in the miasma of pain and despair.

He smelled the disgusting odor of the pigs in the air, felt the sharp bite of a belt across his back and tasted the mishmash of slop that he was fed each day. His bedroom had been a thin mattress on the floor on the back porch. He’d frozen in the winter months and sweltered in the summer.

He’d been a thing, not a person. He’d been a possession to be used and abused. He’d grown to hate them, but he hated himself more. If he hadn’t been a half-breed, maybe they might have loved him. If he didn’t have Native American blood running in his veins, maybe he would have really been part of the family.

“And so eventually you ran away.” Mary’s soft voice pulled him out of the darkness.

He gazed at her once again. “I was fourteen years old, almost fifteen, and on that particular night Hank had beat me with a belt because I’d asked for a second piece of bread at dinner. I was so angry, and I knew that night that if I stayed I’d probably wind up killing Hank or their oldest son, who was a constant torment to me.”

He looked deep into her eyes but saw no judgment, no hint of revulsion in the soft depths. Her hand remained clasped warmly around his...an anchor to keep him from getting completely lost in his wretched past.

“I had no plan and I took nothing with me except the clothes on my back. I left the Ryan ranch at midnight and headed for the streets of Oklahoma City.”

“You must have been so frightened.”

“I was,” he admitted. “But I was more afraid to stay.”

“What did you do?”

“Thankfully, it was summertime and I didn’t have to worry about harsh winter weather. I found a place under an overpass to stay, and when I got hungry, I stole whatever I could from nearby stores. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I was in survival mode and nothing else mattered.”

“Did you have a plan for your future?” She searched his face as if wanting to know all of his secrets.

A small laugh escaped him. “When you’re out on the streets, you don’t think about your future. I didn’t believe I had a future. All I thought about was when I’d be able to eat again and if I could get through the day without getting beat up.”

“Who was beating you up on the streets?”

“There was a gang of skinheads who beat up anyone who wasn’t white. I usually managed to get away from them, but occasionally they caught me and beat the snot out of me.”

He offered her a small smile. “It’s funny, I could take the beatings from them far better than the ones from Hank.”

Her eyes darkened. “That’s because Hank was the man who raised you, the man who should have protected and loved you. So, how did you get to be here in Bitterroot and on the Holiday ranch?” She released his hand and leaned back once again.

“That was the doing of a very special social worker named Francine Rogers.” Tony smiled as he remembered Francine’s cocoa-colored features and her gentle smile.

“She often hit the streets in the late evenings looking for runaways. She’d sometimes have food or blankets and she always wanted to help. She tried to help some of the boys reunite with their parents and get some of them into shelters. I’d talked to her several times before. She knew I was never going back to Hank and Betty and she also knew I wasn’t interested in living in a shelter. One night she asked me if I’d like to go to Bitterroot and work on a ranch for a woman who was alone and needed help. I figured I had nothing to lose, so she took me to Cass Holiday.”

The tension that had twisted Tony’s guts slowly eased. “I found a home with Cass and the other men. There I’m not half-Choctaw or half-white, I’m just another cowboy.”

“You’re so much more than that, Tony,” she replied. “You’re an honorable man and you’re smart and have a great sense of humor.”

“Thanks.” He searched her beautiful features. “I can’t believe I told you about my childhood. I’ve never told anyone about my past before. You’re good for me, Mary. You’re like no woman I’ve ever known before.”

Her gaze held his for a long moment and he wondered if she saw his desire for her in his eyes. “I’m glad you told me, Tony. And on that note, I think it’s time for me to go to bed.”

He watched with a small twinge of disappointment as she got up from the sofa. He’d obviously made her uncomfortable and that was the last thing he’d intended.

He got up as well and walked with her down the hall. His bedding was folded up in the linen closet. “Mary?” He touched her arm just before she was about to turn to go into her bedroom.

She turned to look at him. “Are we okay?” he asked worriedly.

“We’re fine, Tony.” She released a small sigh. “My heart is just broken for a little boy who was so badly abused. I ache for that child who wanted to be loved, the boy who grew into a man who is now afraid to love.”

He shook his head and the tension once again swelled in his chest. “It’s not that I’m afraid to love, it’s just that I choose not to love.”

“And so Hank and Betty win. They managed to completely destroy you. Good night, Tony.”

Before he could reply she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her. Tony stared at the door for several long moments before he finally turned to get his bedding.

Her words rang in his ears as he made his bed on the sofa. They echoed in his brain as he stripped down to his boxers, turned off the light and then slid in beneath the sheet.

He thought about the baby who may or may not be his. The child’s laughter delighted him. The way he curled his little fingers around Tony’s thumb shot a wave of protectiveness through him. Each and every expression enchanted him.

Did he love Joey? He could put no other name on the emotions Joey evoked in him. He couldn’t deny it. He loved Joey and he never wanted the boy to know the kind of fear and misery Tony had experienced when growing up.

As he stared up at the dark ceiling and waited for sleep to overtake him, his thoughts once again went to Mary. He loved the way she smiled. He loved how he felt when he was in her presence. Already he looked forward to seeing her in the morning and spending the day with her and Joey.

His desire for her was off the charts. One intimate encounter with her wasn’t enough...would never be enough for him. Was he in love with her?

His heart beat a little faster. Whatever he felt for Mary scared him. She had made it clear she didn’t want a relationship with him and the last thing he wanted was to be vulnerable enough with her that she’d have any opportunity to break his heart.

And yet as his eyes drifted closed, the leaves of the trees whispered softly in his ear that it was already too late to shield his heart.

He was falling in love with Mary.

* * *

Mary awakened before six. Dawn light wasn’t even a promise on the horizon yet. Joey normally didn’t wake up until seven or seven thirty and so there was no reason for her to jump out of bed and begin the day.

She rolled over on her back and thought about the night before and everything she’d learned about Tony’s past. It had been tragic on so many levels.

He’d been taught to hate his Native American blood before he could ever learn to be proud. And that was only one of the sins of his “parents.” Beaten and half-starved, ridiculed and unloved, it was a wonder he was as well-adjusted as he was today.

That was probably due to Cass Holiday. If Tony’s background was typical of the other men who’d come to work for Cass, then she must have been something of a miracle worker to the broken young men who had been brought to her ranch.

Mary had wanted to wrap her arms around Tony. She’d wanted to pull him into her and soothe the pain that had radiated out from his eyes, try to find and heal the little boy inside him who had been so badly damaged.

At the same time she’d realized the importance of maintaining some distance. She didn’t in any way want to give him the impression that she might be open to another physical encounter. She could take care of his son and she could be his friend, but never anything more.

He’d taken two weeks of vacation time to be here as protection in the event that Ash Moreland made another attempt to take Joey. What if Ash made his next move in two weeks and two days? What if the evil man waited a month...or more?

As much as it would hurt Mary to say goodbye to the little boy who had captured her love, when Tony’s vacation time was over, it was definitely time for him to make other arrangements.

She’d already allowed their agreement to go on far longer than she’d intended. It was time to put an end date to it. Hopefully, in the next two weeks Amy would be found, Ash Moreland would be in jail and then Tony and Amy could decide what was best for their child.

And what if Ash Moreland really was Joey’s biological father? She shoved the familiar horrifying worry away. She only hoped the DNA test came soon and it showed that Tony was the father.

Tony might say he chose not to love, but there was no question he loved Joey, and Joey’s best chance at a happy, loving future was with Tony.

Unable to stay in bed any longer, she decided to go ahead and get up and put on the morning coffee. It took her only minutes to brush her teeth and hair and then pull on a lightweight robe.

She opened her door, stepped out and immediately collided with Tony in the semi-darkened hallway. Her hand flew up to his broad, bare chest in an effort to steady herself and at the same time one of his hands grabbed hold of her shoulder.

“Whoa,” he said softly and dropped his hand back to his side. In the faint illumination from the night-light plugged into a nearby wall socket, he looked hot as hell.

He was clad only in a pair of black boxers that hung low on his slim hips and he held his gun in one hand. His hair was loose and draped across his shoulders. He smelled of sleepy male and the lingering scent of his cologne.

“Sorry,” she murmured.
Step back...drop your hand from his chest
, she told herself. But his skin was so wonderfully warm over his taut chest muscles.

“Good morning,” he said.

His heartbeat resonated against her palm. Was her heart beating as fast as his? Her cheeks burned with a blush and she yanked her hand away from him. “Good morning to you,” she said briskly. “I was just on my way to make coffee.”

“And I was just on my way to a shower,” he replied.

“Then I’ll see you in the kitchen in a few minutes.” She sidestepped him and hurried up the hallway.

What was wrong with her? Why did he have the ability to evoke such longing in her? He made her feel like a giddy teenager eager for the high school quarterback to smile at her.

By the time the coffee was made, Tony walked into the kitchen only for Joey to give his familiar cry from the spare room.

“I’ll go get him,” Tony said.

It was hard to believe he was the same man who, two weeks ago, had stared at the baby with unabashed terror. He’d transformed. He was no longer afraid of taking care of Joey. He’d become confident in his role.

It was a good thing, she thought as she poured two cups of coffee and then pulled a bottle of formula out of the refrigerator. Fourteen more days and he was on his own. Fourteen more days and she had to tell him goodbye.

He came back into the kitchen and once again her breath caught in her throat. There was nothing sexier than a man wearing a gun to protect those he cared about and holding a smiling baby in his arms.

“He told me he’s ready for his breakfast,” Tony said.

“I’m ready for you both. I’ve got breakfast for a baby and a cup of coffee for Daddy.”

“I think he looks like me,” Tony said when they were seated at the table. He gazed down at the baby in his lap drinking his bottle and then looked at Mary. “Don’t you think he looks like me?”